A Beautiful Lie
by Hysteria87
Summary: He wanted to believe that she fell in love with him too. And because he wanted to believe it, it was easy for him to swallow the beautiful lie that she had created.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything really. It's actually a kind of sad existence.

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The cameras were poised on them, the Star-Crossed Lovers of District 12. They had both made it, against all odds. His smile was trained, the same one he gave her during every interview, his eyes never wavering from her own. Something was different though. The truth was cracking the surface.

It was all for the Games.

Every kiss, every touch, the stories, her saving him, none of it was real. Katniss had been pretending the entire time, playing not only with the Capitol audience, but with his heart. But right now, everyone was looking at them, and he had to act as though this creature that he was in love with wasn't so deadly.

A car took them from the train station to their new residences in the Victor's Village. As they rounded the corner, he could see how the doors had been decorated by the citizens of District 12, a sign of genuine happiness breaking through all the artificiality. The car dropped Katniss off first, her family and Gale meeting her at the front, no sign of doubt in their joy. There wouldn't be any of that for Peeta. His family opted to stay living above the bakery. They said that he had won the Games, not them, and that they couldn't take any of his money.

The white façade was intimidating, to say the least, even with the bits of color from the signs of praise. _The Victor of District 12_ and _Welcome Home _assaulted his eyes wherever he looked. Praise he didn't deserve. Turning the knob, he took a few steps into his new life; a life that he hoped would allow him the privacy to mourn. Peeta closed the door to the world outside and for the first time since Haymitch told them to keep it up when they got back to 12, he took a breath.

_I don't want them to change me_.

That didn't happen and he had the leg to prove it. Everyone changes in the Games. There was no way that anyone could go through that and not be changed by it, and not only physically. Katniss changed. Katniss had changed so many times that he couldn't keep track of who she was anymore. She had gone from completely ignoring him, to opening up to him, to trying to kill him, to saving his life for whatever reason. Where was the girl he fell in love with? The girl who cared about her friends and family, who did whatever she could to keep living?

_I'm more than just a piece in their Games._

But she did do whatever she had to do to stay alive. She made him a piece in her own game. A game she played with the Capitol and the Gamemakers. If she convinced them that she loved him, they could stay alive. It was never a matter of him actually being in love with her. He wanted to believe her so badly, that she wanted to nurse him back to health, that she got scared that he ate the berries, that he had saved her just as much as she saved him. He wanted to believe that she fell in love with him too. And because he wanted to believe it, it was easy for him to swallow the beautiful lie that she had created.

He didn't save her. Yes, he took a wound for her, but she would have won even without him. He wasn't a Victor; there was no noble moment for him. He was just a Tribute who came out of the Arena alive. Looking around the living room, at the fine furniture and décor, the taste of sick started to boil up from his stomach. He didn't deserve this, any of this. He didn't deserve to be played with, to have his feelings completely disregarded, to have them traded to the Capitol for a house full of luxuries that he didn't want.

Blindly, he walked over to the first thing he laid his eyes on, a delicately painted ceramic vase, and threw it against a wall. It shattered on contact, spraying the fresh paint with water. The pillows on the couch were next, goose down and duck feathers flying everywhere as the paintings got ripped from their nails. It had to go. It all had to go. Legs on tables were snapped, framed photos of people he never cared about lost their glass, the room was destroyed. None of it mattered if he didn't have Katniss.

The kitchen was next, one that his father would never be able to afford. The table was laid with a spread of exotic foods direct from the finest catering in the Capitol; each cake on it's own tier, the pastries piled in mountains. Why didn't they get it? He didn't need this. If he wanted cake, he could make his own damn cake. He could feed himself. He could find his own home and make his own living. The one thing he couldn't do on his own was the one thing they took from him.

Before the Games, he had figured that he would eventually get over Katniss, put her in the past and find someone else, like his own father had done with her mother. Before the Games, he had his own life. But now, every year they would have to be in love and every year he would have that old wound opened up again, never properly healing. He could never get over her, never marry anyone else, and never know if she was really in love with him or if it was all a lie.

Frosting smeared across the fine wood as tiers were toppled over onto the floor, the gorgeous creations mixing into nothing. Drawers were pulled from their places, forks and knives making such a sound that he didn't know existed. A sound equally as haunting came from within him, a scream so loud that he barely heard the long-stemmed glasses shattering into a million little pieces. She had ripped his heart out and fed it to the Gamemakers on one of these silver platters. Right now, he wished that she had never found him. He could have died slowly from infection rather than living this half-life.

A small package on the counter by the sink caught his eye. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with simple twine, definitely not from the Capitol. A piece of a card was tied to it and Peeta ripped it off to read the steady handwriting:

_I know what you did for her in there. Thank you for bringing her home._

_- Gale Hawthorne_

And inside the package was some meat, cleaned and preserved in the same way that Peeta had watched Katniss prepare her kills. A gift from Gale, probably the only thing he could afford. Even then, he was surely taking a loss for just giving it away. All the anger drained out of him at once. Wasn't this the whole reason why she needed to win? To come back for her family and Gale? Nobody cared if he came back, that was painfully obvious. Now he was just another person who would rely on her to perform year after year and he would do his part because, despite it all, he still loved her.

Peeta slowly slid to the floor, breaking down in the tears that he didn't know he was holding back this entire time. He couldn't take this anymore. All he wanted was for her to know how he felt before he died. That was the only thing he was asking for when he confessed in front of the entire country. But now, because of him, they were forever stuck in this game that was far more painful than anything in the Arena.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!**


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